


hands-on assessment

by falchion



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Developing Relationship, Everyone is legal and consenting, Friends With Benefits, Hanamaki and Mattsun are Bros (TM), Inappropriate usage of college facilities, M/M, Porn With Plot, professor!Iwaizumi, student!Oikawa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-28
Updated: 2015-08-28
Packaged: 2018-04-17 16:58:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4674389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/falchion/pseuds/falchion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Iwaizumi is Oikawa’s professor-with-benefits.<br/>And maybe something a little more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	hands-on assessment

**Author's Note:**

> this was originally pwp but i added a bit of plot so its now pw/p i guess enjoy it?? im sorry mom

There’s something just a little bit satisfying about being the one banging the hottest professor on campus, Oikawa thinks as he scrolls through the many comments on his university’s stalker page.

Posted at the top of the page is a cell phone picture of Professor Iwaizumi. The contents are a little blurry and obviously taken in secret, but it does a pretty good job of showing off what it needs to.

That is, the three very large, and very _prominent_ hickeys decorating the skin of his neck.

 _‘When your professor has a better weekend than you_ ’, the caption reads, and Oikawa smirks. The photo had amassed over one thousand likes in the past few hours, and had many disappointed comments from students both male and female alike.

Professor Iwaizumi had had his own little payback in mind, however, as that morning he had quite obviously picked on Oikawa, who sat inconspicuously in the second row of the hall, for the answer to a very specific reading-related question.

Oikawa, who had spent the entire weekend getting fucked over every hard surface of said professor’s apartment, had quite obviously not done the reading. He replies with an overly cheerful and somewhat forceful apology, and has to stifle a large bout of annoyance from his tone as the professor turns to the side, a scrutinizing comment about students being lazy in tow.

With a click of his tongue, Oikawa turns his nose up at the professor, and Oikawa knows he’s looking. He’d make him pay for that one later. When the clock reaches five-to and the students file out, Oikawa takes his own sweet time in organising his book (which, hadn’t been written in all lesson).

“You don’t know how annoying it has been, having people stare at these god damn marks the entire day,” Iwaizumi says, once it’s just the two of them in the room. “I don’t think anyone was listening… were you listening?”

Oikawa props his chin on his hands, and smiles sweetly at the professor. “Gee, I wonder what kind of weekend you must have had to get those,” he said. “Students are going crazy online making up stories, have you seen?” He complete ignores Iwaizumi’s second question, since it’s pretty obvious what the answer is anyway.

Iwaizumi shakes his head, “You think you students gossipping is that big a deal? I’ll have you know that there’s a fair amount of gossip in the staff rooms, too. About students, that is.”

Oikawa chuckles. “Must be weird, thinking that our professors have lives of their owns…” Oikawa slides out of his seat and steps towards the front table, where Iwaizumi is packing up his belongings. “Do you have a class after this?”

There’s a tiny distance now, between his face and Oikawa’s, and Iwaizumi holds his breath. “No, I’m free until two,” he replies, swallowing.

The grin Oikawa lets out can’t be described as anything other than predatory.

“What a coincidence, so am I.”

 

* * *

 

“You really left a good one on him,” Hanamaki tells Oikawa over dinner. Matsukawa nods in agreement, his mouth too busy around his katsudon to give any verbal response. Oikawa grins. “I swear I heard about five girls cry together at the thought of Iwaizumi-sensei being taken.”

“He’s not really taken,” Oikawa butts in. “It’s not like we’re dating, or anything like that.”

“Yeah, instead you guys just have so much sex that I didn’t even see you all weekend,” Matsukawa chides, finally having swallowed his mouthful of food well enough to speak. “Last week too. And... the week before that? And Wednesday.”

Hanamaki nods. “We split the rent three ways, but in reality, it’s just us two, isn’t it?” he says, giving a complacent look at Matsukawa, who gives an equally as solemn nod.

Oikawa scowls. “Sex and relationships can be mutually exclusive,” he says, folding his arms over his chest.

Hanamaki and Matsukawa share a look at each other. “If you say so, man,” Hanamaki tells him, before taking a long swig of lemonade.

There’s an edge of sarcasm to his voice, and it doesn’t sit well with Oikawa. He frowns, narrowing his eyes on his pink haired friend. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs, before crushing the can with his fingers. “It’s just… I don’t know, you’ve never stayed with one person for as long as you have with sensei. And like, he’s your teacher and stuff. It’s risky. You're daring, but not that much so.”

Oikawa paused. That was true. But Iwa-chan wasn’t just his teacher… he was really fucking hot. And great at sex. And Oikawa remembers the first time he walked into that lecture and saw him standing up the front being all professional and smarmy and Oikawa knew – just knew that he’d look amazing with his eyes screwed shut and gasping his name and

Shit, Oikawa was letting his imagination get the better of him again.

Not that it ended up being entirely wrong, but that was beside the point.

“He’s just a great lay…” Oikawa says, although now he’s not sure whether he’s telling that to his friends or to himself.

“We know,” Matsukawa deadpans, and Oikawa sighs.

It was definitely to himself.

He thought about his short cropped hair that accommodated the pull of his fingers so well. About the low purr of voice as he whispered his name into his ear, as he breathed heavily into the crook of his neck, as he tried his best to muffle the grunts he makes as he comes.

About how he’d always take his time in prepping him, taking everything as slow as he’d need, being altogether the most caring and careful lover he’d ever -

Lover?

The word is somewhat foreign around Oikawa’s lips, but.

It’s not bad.

Iwaizumi would be a great lover. He probably cooked well, being a bachelor living alone, and being a professor at such a young age probably meant he was incredibly mature.

Or perhaps not, Oikawa thinks, remembering the mess of dishes he’d glanced upon in those ten minutes he’d pulled himself off Iwaizumi’s neck, getting a cup of water.

He thinks over everything, until there’s nothing left to think about, until realization dawns on Oikawa and he thinks, fuck.

“Oh my god,” Oikawa says, “I have a crush on him.”

Hanamaki looks up from his phone, his eyes wide with surprise. Matsukawa claps his hands. “You owe me ten thousand yen, Makki,” he says, and the pink-haired boy groans, reaching into his bag for his wallet and sliding him a bill.

“You guys _bet_ on me?”

“No, we bet on Iwaizumi-sensei. That _you_ ’d fall for _him_ ,” Matsukawa corrects. “Not the other way around.”

Hiding his face behind his hands, Oikawa lets out a whine. “You guys suck!” he cries, “and don’t make a comment, Makki! I know what you’re about to say!”

Hanamaki, who had indeed been about to make a snide comment, clamps his mouth shut. He looks smug nonetheless.

“What do I do, guys?” Oikawa asks, leaning back into his chair. “I can’t have a crush, that goes against... me.”

“Well you do. Have a crush, that is. That goes against you. If you know what I mean.” Hanamaki looks pleased with himself for pulling another innuendo out of Oikawa, and he high-fives Matsukawa under the table. Oikawa glares at him. “Okay but seriously, why not just ask him out?”

Oikawa looks at his friend as if he’d suddenly grown a second head. “I can’t do that.”

Matsukawa tilts his head. “Why not?”

“He’s a teacher! He can’t date me. Doesn’t that go against like… protocol?”

Hanamaki rolls his eyes. “You _sucking his dick_ under the projector desk is also against protocol,  but it’s never stopped him before. I really don’t think he cares.”

Oikawa makes a humming noise, as if he’s pleased that his friend remembered that story. It honestly was one of his prouder moments. “Do you think he’d date me, though?”

This time, both Hanamaki and Matsukawa sigh. “With the amount of sex you two have had, I’m surprised you’re not _already_ dating. Just ask him, dude. And if he doesn’t, you can find another guy, and your problem will be solved. Simple and easy, yes?”

And with that, the discussion is deemed closed.

The thing is that, asking Iwaizumi out is a lot easier said than done.

The next time Oikawa has class with him, Iwaizumi ends up spending the ten minutes between classes explaining three dimensional vectors to a confused-looking girl. Oikawa isn’t interested in getting between Iwaizumi’s job, so after five minutes of awkwardly hovering around, he decides to give up for today and get to his next class.

It wouldn’t have irritated Oikawa as much as it did, if it wasn't something that kept. Happening.

At the end of every class, Iwaizumi would be busy explaining weird theorems Oikawa swears they learned in high school but apparently didn’t. And if not that, he’d be in a hurry to his next lecture, or busy with assignments and just overall impossible to _locate_ on the goddamn campus at any given time.

At one point in the week, Iwaizumi texts Oikawa, inviting him over to his apartment for dinner. Oikawa perks up, thinking of it as an oppourtunity, except that it doesn’t really happen. Unless eating Iwaizumi out against the dining table counted as dinner (which, Oikawa was inclined to believe it did).

By the time Oikawa manages to get an overlap in his schedule between getting his assignments done and having matching breaks with Iwaizumi, over a week has passed and it’s Friday again.

And it’s a little hard to ask questions when you’re getting fucked into incoherency, so there’s that.

“Just fucking ask him!” Hanamaki cries, slamming his hand onto the table. “It’s been like, three weeks since you said you would and you haven’t moved from that one spot. At this rate some doe-eyed girl is going to get the jump on you, what will you do then?”

Oikawa’s eyes are wide and fearful at that suggestion, “Do you think that will actually happen?” he asks, his voice a wavering mess.

Matsukawa whaps Hanamaki across the back of his head. “Of course not…” he says, although his eyes are strangely narrow as he says it. “What exactly is the problem you’re having in telling him?”

“He’s always busy. Or I’m always busy. I’ve hardly seen him in the recent weeks because our schedules have extremely hectic!” Oikawa whines.

Matsukawa nods empathetically, but Hanamaki scowls. “Actually, you went to his apartment last Tuesday. And I quote you, when you walked through the doors at eleven pm, ‘ _Oh, I forgot to ask him. He went down and sucked my dick, and I very nearly almost lost my voice!’_.”

“You don’t understand, Makki!” Oikawa cries, “It’s like he _knows_ what I’m about to ask him, and every time I get close he goes down on me and changes the subject!”

Hanamaki lowers his forehead onto the dining table, and hits it several times. “You’re hopeless, Oikawa,” he tells him. “I’m surprised you managed to get this far in your life without dying. Tell me, what’s your secret?”

Oikawa mirrors him, lowering his face onto the wood. “I don’t _know_ anymore. Do you think I should just text him and ask him out?”

“Definitely not,” both Hanamaki and Matsukawa say in unison. “Don’t be that guy who does things via text. You’re a smart guy, Oikawa. I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

He lets out a huge sigh, and pulls his phone from his pocket. There isn’t much in his conversation history with Iwaizumi, just a couple of meeting times and locations and emojis. Nothing substantial. But he scrolls through the messages with fondness in his heart anyway, knowing that Iwaizumi had taken the time to reply to every single one of them.

God, he was so fucking smitten.

 

* * *

 

Hanamaki was right - Oikawa’s a smart guy.

And guys like him don’t go down without a fight. Shoving one of his essays to the side, Oikawa sits and thinks about how he can force Iwaizumi to spend some time with him, without coming off as too pushy.

Iwaizumi taught advanced calculus, a subject Oikawa didn’t find extraordinarily difficult, but not necessarily easy either. It was for that reason that asking for extra help outside of class would be impossible, because there would be no way Iwaizumi would accommodate it. Work and sex were to different matters, after all, and Iwaizumi would not be trusting of Oikawa.

But, Oikawa is a smart guy, and an idea comes to mind pretty easily.

There are three short raps to Iwaizumi’s door, and the sound of a wheelie chair rolling can be heard from within. It takes a few more seconds, but soon the door swings open revealing the man inside. His glasses are perched high on his nose, and it takes all of Oikawa's self control to not jump him right there and then.

“Oh, Oikawa,” he says, his shoulders dropping. He swings the door open wider, letting the younger man come inside. “What brings you to my office?”

“It’s about my quiz score,” Oikawa replies, slinging his bag off his back and onto the floor. He then bends over, taking care to not bend his legs so that his entire ass is on display as he digs through his bag, taking his own sweet time.

Iwaizumi coughs, his face heating up as he turns away with purpose, making sure that Oikawa and his ass are not anywhere within his peripheral vision. He has a sudden fixation on the papers he was grading, slipping back into his chair and returning his gaze to the essay. For some reason, he can no longer read. "What about it?" he asks.

Oikawa lets out a dramatic sigh. "I don't know, why don't you tell me?" he asks, flipping the page in question in front of him. "I must say, I've always been quite a good student. So I really don't understand how it's possible for me to obtain a score like... well, this." At the top of his page in bright red pen is an angry '46', complete with a red circle and an accompanying 'F'.

Iwaizumi regards the mark with a purse of his lips, before trailing his eyes upwards to meet Oikawa’s. “You are quite a good student,” he says, and Oikawa takes a step forward. “Usually. But all your answers were incorrect, so.”

“But is that fair, sensei? I didn’t understand the material…” his voice trails off, and he grips the paper tight in his fingers. Then, he looks up to meet Iwaizumi’s gaze, his pupils dark and blown. “I’ve been too... _distracted_ every lesson.”

Oikawa drops the paper to the floor and slides a hand onto Iwaizumi’s shoulder. Iwaizumi’s breath hitches in his throat, and he swallows. “Perhaps you’d like a supplementary assessment, then?”

Oikawa grins, leaning back and running a finger over his lips. “Tell me, sensei, what would this ‘supplementary assessment’ involve?” he asks, his voice dripping sweet and venomous.

Iwaizumi visibly shudders at the sight of Oikawa’s fingers at his lips, and he steps forward so that Oikawa leans back against his desk. He hesitates for a moment, before pulling the glasses off his face and placing them aside. “Perhaps some… hands on activities,” he mutters, before leaning his head forward.

Oikawa pulls Iwaizumi’s head towards his at the invitation, twining his fingers into the short locks of the professor’s hair with a mighty force. Iwaizumi relishes in the kiss, noting how quick Oikawa is to part his lips and let his tongue in. It’s so hot that it’s almost dizzying, and Oikawa can feel his mind go numb as Iwaizumi’s tongue traces across his teeth and sucks hard on his bottom lip.

Then, Iwaizumi pulls back from the kiss, trailing his lips lower and settling them on Oikawa’s neck. He nibbles the soft flesh of Oikawa’s throat, his teeth grazing the surface. Under him, Oikawa shivers, the sensations of Iwaizumi’s mouth on him causing him to jerk up into his touch, his cock hardening against the professor’s thigh.

“You’ve been leaving so many marks on me recently,” Iwaizumi murmurs against his throat as he nips at the skin, breaking it underneath his teeth. “I had no idea you were so possessive.”

Oikawa cants his hips upwards, sliding his crotch against Iwaizumi’s. The friction, despite being intrreupted by two layers of fabric, are amazing. “Sen...sei,” he manages to get out, and above him, Iwaizumi growls.

“Don’t call me that,” he says, his lips pausing against Oikawa’s collarbone.

There’s a moment of hesitation, then Oikawa curls his lips around a new name. “Iwa-chan,” he breathes, and Iwaizumi tenses.

“You’re unbelievable,” he says, before reaching up to Oikawa’s mouth for another kiss.

Oikawa bends his elbows, reaching for the buttons of Iwaizumi’s dress shirt, fingers scrabbling to undo them all. Never in his life has he been so grateful that Iwaizumi doesn’t wear a tie, because he doesn’t think at this point he’s conscious enough to figure out how to take one off.

His chest now fully exposed, Oikawa runs his hands down the taut muscle of his abdomen, splaying his fingers as if he can’t get enough. Iwaizumi’s doing this amazing job of grinding his hips low against him as they kiss, and Oikawa feels like he’s about to explode from pleasure.

Except it’s not quite enough.

Leaning backwards, Oikawa tugs his t-shirt over his head in a swift motion before discarding it beside him. He catches Iwaizumi’s eyes trailing down his abdomen, admiring the smooth skin of his chest, and his gaze catching on a hickey mark left there from several days prior.

“Pants,” Oikawa breathes, before trailing his fingers down to the fly of his jeans, unbuttoning it with fervor. Iwaizumi mirrors him, shucking off his slacks and boxers in one movement and stepping out of them with ease.

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi says, his voice a low whisper. He lowers his head so that his lips are grazing Oikawa’s ear, “Let me fuck you.”

Below him, Oikawa shivers, and Iwaizumi lets his teeth graze Oikawa’s earlobe. “God, yes. Please, Iwa-chan.”

With a smile, Iwaizumi slides a hand to reach behind and cup Oikawa’s ass.

He pauses, frowning.

His hand is slick.

Or rather, Oikawa’s ass is slick.

Breath hitching, Iwaizumi traces his finger around Oikawa’s hole, finding that indeed, his finger slipped right in. A coy smile plays on his lips.

“You know, I have a small feeling that you didn’t come here to talk about your marks. At all.”

Oikawa cocks his head to the side, grinning between the low breaths he’s letting out. “And I have the feeling that that 46 wasn’t my real grade, but some sort of elaborately disguised booty call.”

“You got me there,” Iwaizumi chuckles, before he pulls his fingers out and wipes them on his slacks. “But, you fingered yourself on just that thought alone, huh…” he trailed off, feeling his body flare up at the thought of Oikawa preparing himself. Reaching for his pull out drawer, Iwaizumi retrieves a condom. The campus often handed them out to students as part of safe-sex awareness, but Iwaizumi often took it as an opportunity to stock up himself. After all, sex with Oikawa had become a pretty frequent thing as of recent.

“Yeah,” Oikawa murmured, leaning down onto the desk so that his entire weight was now against the wood. “Just the thought of you bending me over this desk, your cock thrusting into me from behind… making sure Takeda-sensei next door could hear it…”

Iwaizumi groans. “Fuck, Oikawa,” he gasps, his hand slipping on the condom as he tries to slide it on as quickly as possible. His fingers are trembling, he’s so turned on right now. But he finally slips it on, and within seconds he’s got Oikawa pressed flush against the desk, and slides his cock up against his ass.  

He hesitates for a moment, running his fingers along Oikawa’s hips, settling him down. Looking down, he meets Oikawa's gaze, the younger man's pupils dark and blown and begging him to fuck him.  Oikawa’s back is arched out beautifully, and Iwaizumi wants to run his tongue down every inch, savouring the taste of his flesh.

But he can’t right now.

Instead, his eyes flutter shut and he lets out a low groan as he finally slides into the tight heat of Oikawa’s ass. He’d have been ashamed of the noise, too, if Oikawa hadn’t let out one equally as loud and slid his hips further down, trying to accommodate more of Iwaizumi’s length, and the two of them sit for a moment, just adjusting and relishing in the rawness of the moment.

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa breathes, his arms leaning up to wrap around Iwaizumi’s shoulders.

Later, he’ll think about how every time they had sex, everything felt incredibly close. Oikawa never latched onto his other flings the way he did to Iwaizumi, with his fingers clinging and digging crescent marks into skin.

But then, none of them had ever made him feel the way Iwaizumi did.

Wrapping his legs around Iwaizumi’s back, he encourages the older man to roll his hips into a steady rhythm, and Iwaizumi obliges.

Iwaizumi lowers his arms onto the desk to keep his weight under control, but he’s sliding his hips with such fervor already that he’s not sure how long he can hold on. It’s ridiculous, how hot Oikawa gets him, how just a single look at his body can get him so irrevocably turned on to the point of no return.

With a loud gasp Iwaizumi brings their lips back together, their kiss sloppy and untrained but a sensation only second to the feelings of pleasure building below.

Oikawa’s voice is what spurs him on, every gasp and moan that leaves his throat matching the thrusts of Iwaizumi’s hips - he’s like the most elusive drug, drawing him in slowly, and by the time he realizes what he’s gotten into it’s far too late.

Iwaizumi wants to slow down, to pace himself out more and enjoy the moment, but he can’t - just _can’t_ , not with the way that Oikawa’s voice is rising and his body is quaking beneath him.

“Oikawa,” he gasps, pulling himself away and arranging his hands so that one is flat on his hips, pressing him down to the desk. “Oikawa, come for me,” he tells him. His left hand flies upwards, tracing the underside of his cock before wrapping his fingers around it entirely.

Oikawa lets out a high whine at the contact, and Iwaizumi’s jerking him off at a pace matching his thrusts and it’s too much for Oikawa.

His hands scrabble at Iwaizumi’s forearms, digging and clutching in a way that will be sure to leave marks. Oikawa can’t bring himself to care; not when he’s coming, hot and hard, his entire body shaking with effort as a loud moan tears from his throat.

Oikawa tightens around Iwaizumi as he comes, and Iwaizumi almost chokes at the intense feeling of him clamping around him. “Fuck, Oikawa,” he curses, his head throwing back beautifully as he thrusts faster, now working with effort to get himself off. Oikawa can only watch with hazy eyes as Iwaizumi swallows roughly, the bob of his Adam’s apple so enticing and sweet.

With one last gasp, his hands fashion into tight fists against the table and he chokes back a groan as he comes, his hips unrelenting as he continues to ride out his orgasm. Finally, after what seems like forever he lets out a huge groan, slumping forward and resting his head on Oikawa’s chest.

It’s an impulse, Oikawa thinks, as he lifts his right hand to run it through Iwaizumi’s hair. It’s now matted with sweat, but Oikawa can’t bring himself to care as his fingers trail lower, cupping the older man by the cheek.

“Iwa-chan…” he whispers, and below him, Iwaizumi looks up at him.

His eyes are unfocused, still blissed out from orgasm, but he’s staring Oikawa in the eyes and he can feel the pure intensity coming from him.

He needs to tell him.

Oikawa needs to tell him, he can’t let this continue on for any longer. Because Oikawa has it for him so _bad_. The sex they’d just had was different to usual, and he knew it. It was too intimate. Iwaizumi never kissed him like that. And if things went on like this, he would surely _die_.

Pulling himself up, Iwaizumi slides open his desk drawer and procures some wet towels, tossing one at Oikawa before wiping himself down. Then, he’s reaching down and dressing himself. He’s in the middle of buttoning up his shirt when he finally looks up at Oikawa, confusion drawn out on his face.

“You’re not going to get dressed?” he asks him, picking up his T-shirt from the floor and handing it to him. Oikawa accepts it with both hands, but he doesn’t move from the desk.

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says again, still not moving from his spot on the desk.

Iwaizumi frowns. “You keep calling my name, but you never say anything to go with it. Do you actually have something to say to me?” he asks.

Oikawa clenches his hand, his bottom lip bitten raw in the past few minutes alone. “Why is it that you keep having sex with me?” Oikawa finally asks.

There’s a beat of silence between them, and Iwaizumi’s face has furrowed into a frown. Like he’s trying to figure Oikawa out, but he can’t seem to do so. “Pardon?”

“I really like Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says.

He blinks. “I like you too, Oikawa,” Iwaizumi says, but his face is still downturned. Confused.

“No,” Oikawa says, his voice forceful. It’s now or nothing. Go big or go home. “I like you, Iwa-chan. Like, a lot. I can’t stop thinking about you,” he takes a breath in before continuing. “When I jerk off, I can’t think about anyone except you.”

Iwaizumi’s mouth drops open at the last part, and his face flushes red. “Whoa, Oikawa, I-”

“Why else do you think I keep marking you like that?” His eyes trail down to Iwaizumi’s collarbone, which has a fresh array of hickeys. “I just… the thought of someone else being with you… I…”

“Oikawa…”

“But I understand… if it’s not something you can do. Want to do. Since you’re a professor here, and I’m your student, and -”

He’s cut off by Iwaizumi’s lips pressed against his, and the feeling of a strong hand tracing down his back. If their kisses earlier had been passionate, then Oikawa had no words for what they were now. He could feel his mind going blank, his thoughts betraying him as he melted into nothingness. Just the feeling of Iwaizumi on top of him, and everything else didn’t matter.

Oikawa pulls back just far enough to see Iwaizumi's eyes. They've got that same intense look he'd had earlier, just before he'd slid into him. Oikawa's heart lurches at the memory.

"Stop overthinking everything, idiot," Iwaizumi says finally. "You're right, I'm a professor, and you're a student. I could get fired for this. But don't you think I knew that before we even started this?" He lets out a small laugh. "For someone so smart, sometimes you're pretty dense, huh."

Oikawa scowls, but he knows a compliment from Iwa-chan when he hears one.

"I like you too, Oikawa. A lot. Enough that I'm willing to do.. this," he glazes his eyes over his office, eyes lingering on the spot where they'd been fucking just ten minutes earlier. "So don't worry."

He's not sure why, but hearing those words from Iwaizumi make Oikawa believe him.

“So we’re dating now, right?” Oikawa asks as he finally does up the last button on his jeans. Wearing clothing - especially jeans - after sex, weren't on the list of Oikawa's favourite things to do. In fact, he'd much rather be at home right now still naked and possibly spooning.

“Yes,” Iwaizumi answers from his desk. It had taken Oikawa a while to regain enough strength in his legs to stand again, and Iwaizumi had returned to grading tests. He pauses. “Unless you don’t want to be.”

“No!” Oikawa gasps, immediately flinging his arms out so that they rest on Iwaizumi’s shoulders. “I want to be the one dating you. Not any of those girls.”

Iwaizumi frowns at that, as if the mere idea of him dating one of his students was an offense.

“Yeah, yeah,” Iwaizumi says, waving his hand. “I don’t think I’d be able to find another student willing to travel all the way across campus for a thirty minute break, anyway,” he says, a small smile on his lips.

Oikawa blushes.

“And anyway, about your quiz…” Iwaizumi says suddenly, swinging his chair around. “You failed.”

There’s a pause, and then, “What do you mean I failed?”

Iwaizumi blinks. “A 46 isn’t a pass,” he tells him, as if it were brand-new information.

“But I didn’t _actually_ get a 46,” Oikawa says slowly, frowning. “It was all just… you… to make me come here…”

“You wrote all your vectors backwards,” Iwaizumi tells him, pointing at the centre of the page. “I can’t give you marks there, even if I wanted to.”

“Iwa-chan!”

 

* * *

 

It’s Monday morning, and the class abuzz with murmurs from students gossipping over the newest pictures on the university’s stalker page.

‘ _Hat trick_ ’, the caption says, with another blurry picture of Iwaizumi filling the screen. This time he's wearing a scarf, but it's clearly not enough as the students can still tell he must have had a _stellar_ weekend. Oikawa can’t help but grin.

Because there’s something just a little bit satisfying about being the one _dating_ the hottest professor on campus.

 

**Author's Note:**

> AHHH ... anyways...! im contemplating a sequel if there's interest although it would just be a pwp. lmk what you think in the comments.
> 
> also gonna plug my ongoing iwaoi longfic please check it out [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4178049)! until next time folks


End file.
